


Romance Will Never Be Dead

by KillerQueen20



Category: Good Omens (TV), Good Omens - Neil Gaiman & Terry Pratchett
Genre: 6000 Years of Pining (Good Omens), 6000 Years of Slow Burn (Good Omens), Aziraphale is Bad at Feelings (Good Omens), Crowley Loves Aziraphale (Good Omens), Crowley in Love (Good Omens), Drunk Crowley (Good Omens), Fluff, Fluff and Hurt/Comfort, Heartbreak, Idiots in Love, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Ineffable Idiots (Good Omens), M/M, Mexican culture, Mutual Pining, One Shot, Pining Crowley (Good Omens), Pre-Canon: Good Omens, Romance, Romantic Crowley (Good Omens), Romantic Fluff, Soft Aziraphale (Good Omens), Soft Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens), Song Lyrics, Songfic
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-31
Updated: 2019-12-31
Packaged: 2021-02-19 09:03:26
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,036
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22008490
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/KillerQueen20/pseuds/KillerQueen20
Summary: Romance will never be dead. Or at least, that was what Crowley said, who after centuries and millennia of spending his life on earth, was a recurring witness to the various samples of romanticism and how it had evolved over time.And he will prove it when the love of his life and guilty that he was drowning his sorrows uselessly with alcohol entered to the room
Relationships: Aziraphale & Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 3
Kudos: 22





	Romance Will Never Be Dead

**Author's Note:**

> After I spent all of my holidays watching movies from Golden Age of Mexican cinema, I became very fond of this kind of movies so I got inspiration and I wrote this fic.  
> There are a lot of references of Mexican cinema and culture, so if you have some questions about it, don't doubt to ask me. This also have a song in Spanish, called 100 años, singing by the great Pedro Infante. I'll leave the traduction on the final notes.  
> I hope you like it!

_**Mexico, 1947** _

Romance will never be dead. Or at least, that was what Crowley said, who after centuries and millennia of spending his life on earth, was a recurring witness to the various samples of romanticism and how it had evolved over time.

The demon had to admit that the best way to show love was in Mexico in the 40s, where gallantry went hand in hand with seduction when they wanted to woo a lady, and where love was represented in great gestures since a serenade in the middle of the night to a rogue kiss stolen.

And Crowley as the hopeless romantic who refused to admit that he was, admired from the distance that great prowess of romance, wondering where the gentlemen took such courage to declare a love without fear of being ridicule.

 _"I can do it too,"_ said the demon every time, flooded with confidence that seconds later he was denied by it. _"No that's not true"_

This was how he could summarize his trip to Mexico, a journey made because of his obligations as a demon that ended up becoming a pleasure trip, where he had to see at all times how Infante, Negrete, and Arvizu made fun of his laughable love life while performing songs about love and he resigned himself to an unrequited love.

As any scorned man would do and with a desire to forget a broken heart, even if only for a few hours, he turned to drink in a bar while the songs of heartbreak tried to minimize, unsuccessfully, the spite that had long since settled in his chest, becoming a feeling too familiar to him.

Convinced that a drink as strong as tequila was enough to forget a heartbreak, he took another drink, getting used to the burning in his throat that caused that drink and feeling the floor shake under him when the liquid entered his system.

And as if it were one of those Mexican films that had become so eager to see in times of boredom, the love of his life and guilty that he was drowning his sorrows uselessly with alcohol entered to the room, making everything stop around him, leaving only the two of them in the world.

"Aziraphale," whispered as he watched the pure image of the angel enter a place like that.

He tried to get up to approach him but had barely made a move to get up when, due to the strong alcohol in his veins, he stumbled and ended up falling awkwardly in the chair. A scene that, shamefully, Aziraphale had seen, completely capturing his attention.

"Crowley," the smiling blond greeted as he approached him.

"Angel, what does someone like you do in a place like this?" He tried to flirt miserably, doing something more like ridicule than anything.

Contrary to all possibilities, Aziraphale blushed, because no matter how clumsy he attempted to flirt, the frankness of the demon was something that always made him blush.

"And what are you doing here, Crowley?" He asked in an attempt to divert the demon's attention to him.

"Temptations," he replied quietly. "And I suppose you..."

"Miracles," he replied, smiling, although that smile quickly turned into a grimace when a strong smell reached his nostrils. "Have you been drinking?" He asked without even bothering to hide his annoyance.

Crowley muttered under his breath at the blond's annoyance. "Oh, come on, angel, tequila here is delightful." And he didn't lie, only the problem was that he was about to stain his black charro suit with vomit. "Besides, we're in a bar, if you expected a demon like me to resist drinking alcohol, your hopes were in vain, let me tell you."

He had to resist wanting to add something else because he knew that the next thing he would say would be something like how beautiful Aziraphale looked with that frown, or how he drives him crazy, and even when he rebuked him, he couldn't help thinking what he felt for him it was more than love, it was adoration, affection, and passion in its purest state.

Absorbed in a scene that made them look more like an annoying couple, Crowley remained impassive as he watched as Aziraphale threw his sermon on his worrying inclination toward drinking and he listened selflessly, focused on other things than a reprimand.

Amid a storm of reprimand and exaggerated gestures of concern, Crowley took his hand to the angel's hair and, with great care, pulled a blond strand out of place and accommodated him behind his ear, abstracting the angel and making him forget what he was talking about.

The scene was paralyzed. Aziraphale fell silent, flushed completely without knowing what to say, feeling like the touch of the demon's hand against his skin made him feel a blend of tickle and burning while the redhead was scolding him mentally by such an action, which, before his eyes, was not more than the manifestation of his true feelings.

And as if the moment was not already uncomfortable, the damn radio began to play a song that made the demon debate between leaving ashamed or staying and facing the situation with temper.

_Pasaste a mi lado_

_Con gran indiferencia_

_Tus ojos ni siquiera_

_Voltearon hacia mí_

Crowley saw how the angel looked at him smiling, not understanding any word of the song. That eased the soul of the demon a little, knowing that, for him, that song was an equivalent to an open declaration of love.

_Te vi sin que me vieras_

_Te hablé sin que me oyeras_

_Y toda mi amargura_

_Se ahogó dentro de mí_

His gaze met the candid blue eyes of his partner and for a second he had the impression that he was going to melt amid the tenderness and the sighs full of longing.

_Me duele hasta la vida_

_Saber que me olvidaste_

_Pensar que ni desprecios_

_Merezca yo de ti_

He hummed the song in a low voice, with an acceptable Spanish that amazed the angel who saw surprised how the demon intoned that song with great feeling, not as if he were singing it, but as if he was living it.

_Y sin embargo sigues_

_Unida a mi existencia_

_Y si vivo cien años_

_Cien años pienso en ti_

The angel's smile widened, which made the demon's security grow, and in a flirtatious gesture, he framed his face, urging him to bow down to join their foreheads and singing in a low voice seductively, leading them both away from the reality and closer to an ideal dream.

_Pasaste a mi lado_

_Con gran indiferencia_

_Tus ojos ni siquiera_

_Voltearon hacia mí_

Aziraphale could see, for a moment, how the gloom in front of him rose and disappeared, letting him see, for the first time, what had always been in front of his eyes and so far he could see with total clarity. The look that the devil gave him, was that how he looked normally? With that face of chronic crush, as if he were a star fallen from the sky?

_Te vi sin que me vieras_

_Te hablé sin que me oyeras_

_Y toda mi amargura_

_Se ahogó dentro de mí_

Crowley looked at him as he always did, with gallantry, gallantry, with a desire to touch him as if he dared to touch the sky with his hands as he left behind the songs of heartbreak and opted for romance songs mixed with the same melancholy as always, reminding him that he would never tire of begging for eternal love, no matter how much pain he felt in his chest.

_Me duele hasta la vida_

_Saber que me olvidaste_

_Pensar que ni desprecios_

_Merezca yo de ti_

And at that time, he wanted to be like Pedro Infante, rogue and flirtatious with thousands of people enthralled before him and always sure of his love conquests, or better as Negrete, rude and manly on the outside, but fierce and romantic lover on the inside, worshiping the floor where his lover will go, just as he did. But that was just dreams of a dreamer demon with a fanciful heart for love.

So much was his wish that he was about to take it by the lapels of his suit and plant the most sublime kiss that ever occurred in history, one capable of changing the rotation of the planets and bringing down the stars of the sky and one that made kisses cease to exist for at least a millennium because any other gesture of love would pale in comparison to the one he was willing to give.

But that, like everything he had longed for the last 6000 years, did not go from being a mere fantasy.

_Y sin embargo sigues_

_Unida a mi existencia_

_Y si vivo cien años_

_Cien años pienso en ti_

With the last verse sung, the song ended, leaving a demon with his recognizable eyes shining with excitement and an astonished angel before such a show of feelings.

"Let's go," he whispered hoarsely, extending his hand for Aziraphale to take it and they could leave. And of course, Aziraphale took it

On a dark April night, with the low moonlight illuminating their steps, they both stumbled as they prowled around as if they were two teenagers who needed to sneak to steal caresses, although neither of them was aware of it.

Five minutes later, they both stopped in the middle of a lonely place, the two of them being the only intrepid souls to be there.

Crowley had stayed there, staring at his companion, rapt. He slipped his hand subtly, eager to be more daring and hold his hand firmly and lay a kiss on him but to do so much that, in his condition of a fantasist, he resigned himself to daydreaming.

This time it was Aziraphale, as cautious as ever, who surprised him, surrounding him by the shoulders with such gallantry that made him feel like those ladies that the gentlemen courted, protected and worshiped through songs and serenades. And deep down, he wanted to feel that way.

For a few moments, he let himself be delighted with the firm grip of the angel on his shoulders, feeling like his everlasting fantasy became a reality, at least for a few minutes, until he had to separate from the blond, waking him from that dream lethargy.

Aziraphale laughed nervously. Crowley smiled, extending that inevitable farewell even further.

"I guess we'll see each other later..." Aziraphale said, as usual, not wanting to be direct.

"Later?" Crowley asked, trying to postpone the farewell between both of them.

Aziraphale let out a laugh that he wanted to hear for the rest of eternity. "Yes, it always seems that we meet, it's almost as if it were..."

"Destiny," he completed the sentence quickly.

"That's right," he conceded with a smile and when the silence was between them, he looked around and saw how the pleasant atmosphere, the faint light of the stars reflecting on them and the night silence blending in harmony with the mellifluous sounds of at night they created what looked like the perfect farewell scene between two lovers "See you later, Crowley," said goodbye before his heart decided to finish off that scene with a kiss.

"Friends? Ha! Your friendship cannot satisfy me Aziraphale." the redhead muttered shortly after seeing the angel disappear with a rapid pace between the night gloom "I want your love. And now you tell me I can't have it..."

He felt the pain and spite that had dissipated in that bar reappeared shortly after the angel disappeared from his sight as if the blond was the balm that made the difference between heartbreak and falling in love.

The demon returned to the bar, drowning the pains between alcohol and, proud as always, he dedicated himself to singing, pretending that nothing had happened and that it had been a dream, letting the time be displaced that memory, without knowing that that moment he had already intertwined between his fingers and remained rooted in his heart and memory.

And he? He only longed for the moment when Aziraphale opened his eyes and decided to love him.

**Author's Note:**

> You passed next to me  
> With great indifference  
> Your eyes did not even  
> Turn to me
> 
> I saw you without you seeing me  
> I spoke to you without you hearing me  
> And my whole bitterness drowned  
> Inside of me
> 
> It hurts until the life  
> Knowing that you forgot me  
> Think that neither contempt  
> I deserve of you
> 
> Nevertheless you still  
> Coupled to my existence  
> And if I live one hundred years  
> One hundred years I'll think of you
> 
> You passed next to me  
> With great indifference  
> Your eyes did not even  
> Turn to me
> 
> I saw you without you seeing me  
> I spoke to you without you hearing me  
> And my whole bitterness drowned  
> Inside of me
> 
> It hurts until the life  
> Knowing that you forgot me  
> Think that neither contempt  
> I deserve of you
> 
> Nevertheless you still  
> Coupled to my existence  
> And if I live one hundred years  
> One hundred years I'll think of you


End file.
